


Desperate Times

by BecauseFanfictionThough



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers - Freeform, But mostly angst, Dog death, F/M, Fluff, Romance, house arrest, seriously, so many sad feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseFanfictionThough/pseuds/BecauseFanfictionThough
Summary: After SHIELD went belly up, you, an empath, needed a job desperately. With all of your training, it only made sense that you put it to use. That’s how you found yourself as a mercenary for hire, and life was as good as you wanted it to be. That is, until the Avengers decided to step in.





	1. Chapter 1

A job.

You needed a job.

Just like a waitress who has worked at a diner her entire adult life before it goes out of business, you were desperate to find a new source of income.

You weren’t proud of your work at SHIELD. You weren’t always proud of the things you had to do in order to earn a paycheck, but you did it. You made your money. You earned a living. Your dog lived comfortably and you had not, in a very long time, had to go days without eating. But once SHIELD went under, your paychecks ceased to come. You were out of work.

Zelda, your black mutt of a dog never went hungry—you made sure of that. You would rather you not eat than she not eat. Unlike Zelda, at least you were capable of understanding why you weren’t able to eat. Zelda didn’t have the capacity to understand, and you couldn’t bear to see her sad, especially with your empathic abilities. You’d given your love too openly to the little mutt and now you couldn’t keep her emotions out.

Your abilities are what had made you SHIELD’s number one choice for interrogations and reconnaissance missions. Your deep understanding of emotions meant that you were capable of not only determining if criminal suspects were lying, but also of perfectly recreating those emotions. To put it simply: you were quite the actress. You’d even thought about going into theater for a little while after you’d lost your job, but it didn’t feel right. The thrill just wasn’t there. With a bit of help from some of your “darker” connections from your SHIELD days—a big thanks to all of the weapons and fighting training—you eventually settled into a business all your own as a mercenary for hire.

“Zelda! I’m home!” You called, walking through the door of your studio apartment and locking it behind you.

Your dog perked up from her place on your mattress and bounded across the room to the door, her tongue hanging lazily from the side of her mouth and her tail wagging. You knelt down, dropping the briefcase you had been holding onto the floor. Her tongue lapped over your face, smothering you with kisses and you could feel your insides buzzing with excitement—partially yours, mostly hers.

“Mama did so good today, Zelda!” You told her, joyfully. Turning away from her you grabbed your briefcase and tilted it onto its side, popping it open. Stacks of twenty-dollar bills filled it. You didn’t allow anyone to pay you in big bills. “That’s what happens when you take out a bigtime oil conglomerate for their competitor!”

You giggled, closing the briefcase after Zelda had taken a moment to sniff at your loot. Standing, you made your way over to the small counter space on the left side of the room. Your studio was tiny and simple. On the left side of the room, beside the counter was a refrigerator, and on top of the counter was a microwave. Opposite all of this was your mattress, which laid on the floor without a frame. Beside the mattress was the doorway to your small bathroom, which contained nothing more than a shower, a sink, and a toilet. It’s all you needed, really. You’d been on your own since you were a teenager and had never really been a fan of big spaces anyway.

Opening up the center cupboard beneath your counter you reached in and pulled out a duffel bag. You transferred the money from the briefcase into the duffel bag, stacking it on top of the piles of bills already inside.

“I love it when customers pay me all movie-like,” you chuckled aloud, still talking to your dog. “A freaking brief-case? Seriously?”

Your next laugh had barely made it out of your throat when the feeling in the air shifted. Zelda let out a low growl and the hair on the back of your neck stood up as the hair all down her back did the same. Reaching inside the still open cupboard, your angled your hand up towards the top and found the gun that was taped there. You were relieved you hadn’t yet removed your combat boots, where you always kept a spare knife hidden.

Taking light steps towards the door, you made a shushing motion towards Zelda and her growling ceased immediately. You snapped twice and then pointed at the bathroom. Zelda gave a slight whimper before dashing off into the bathroom, hiding in the shower like you had taught her. You crept to the wall behind the door, now realizing that the doorknob was shaking ever so slightly as someone tried to pick the lock. With a

click

you heard the door unlock and reacted immediately as it swung open harshly. Your right hand grabbed onto the knob before it could hit you and your left hand stretched forward just as the intruder entered your apartment. You cocked the gun as you pressed it against his temple, through a layer of shoulder-length brown hair. A cool blue stare met yours from the corner of his eyes.

“No fucking way,” you breathed.

Your heart was sinking. An Avenger? A fucking Avenger was breaking into your apartment? You didn’t think you’d stirred up that much trouble. Sure, today’s kill was pretty risky but you couldn’t imagine it’d even made it to the news yet. Then again, since when did the Avenger’s need the news to tell them when trouble was happening?

You made the mistake of letting your guard down, taken aback by the determined stare of James Buchanan Barnes. His foot reached out, kicking the door towards you and slamming you into the wall behind you, hard. Your aim wobbled enough for him to grab onto your wrist and twist the gun from your hand. He had your gun now which meant he had the advantage. You let out a cry of pain and recoiled.

An angry growl met your ears as Zelda peeked out of her hiding place. You felt her anger. Her need to protect you, but you pushed it away. You couldn’t let your attention stray. You ducked down, narrowly avoiding a bullet as James shot at you, and simultaneously grabbing the knife from your boot. You slid forwards on your knees, slashing at James’s side as you went before turning and rising to your feet. You were really glad you were wearing pants or else the rug burn would have been hell.

Before you could make another move, Zelda ran out of the bathroom, her hair on end as she lunged towards your attacker.

“Zelda! N—” before you could finish the word, another shot rang out, and a cry tore from Zelda’s throat.

You felt it. You felt the pain coursing through your only companion and the knife fell from your hand as your jaw fell open. You dropped back to the floor and crawled to Zelda, a sob catching in your throat. Her pain. Her confusion. They were coursing through you so powerfully that you couldn’t even figure out what your own emotions were. She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t know why it hurt so badly. You pulled her into your lap when you reached her, your hands reaching out to cover the hole going through her breast bone.

“Cap, I’ve got her,” you barely heard James speaking into his communication device.

It hurt. It hurt so badly.

It hurt even more when you slowly felt all of Zelda’s emotions slipping away from you.


	2. Chapter 2

Zelda’s blood was dried to your hands, which were cuffed to a table. It’d been a fight to get you away from the dead body. You had clung to her for dear life, as if, if you just had a little longer with it something might change. Captain America himself had arrived and, with James’s help, pried you away.

The tears were dried on your face now and no more fell as you stared straight ahead at the one-way mirror on the wall opposite you. For the first time in a very long time, you didn’t feel much of anything. In fact, you felt numb. It was a new sensation, and an unwelcomed one.

The numbness only lasted a short while longer. When the door to the interrogation room opened and Tony Stark entered, a folder in hand, a flame of anger erupted in your chest. You stood, yanking viciously at your restraints and letting out a shriek.

“If I get my hands on you I swear to god, I will fucking kill you!” you cried.

Tony remained calm and scoffed at you. “Not really smart to make threats when you’re in custody. What’s it they say? Anything you say can and will be used against you?”

“Sure, if I was arrested by the actual fucking police,” you snarled. “Where the hell am I?”

“Avengers compound. Not important. What’s important…” He opened up the folder he was holding, pulling out ten pictures and laying them out on the table in front of you. “Are all of these dead guys.”

You eyed the photos briefly and recognized each one of the dead bodies shown in them. Apparently you hadn’t been as careful as you thought. The Avengers had been onto you the whole time. But why you? Weren’t there intergalactic threats to be handled? Why waste their time with things that they could get the police department to handle?

You kept your poker face strong and didn’t falter. “What about them?”

“They’re dead.”

You faked a gasp. “Really? With all those bullet holes in their chests you can hardly even tell.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Ex SHIELD agent. Top weapons expert and highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Oh, and also you read people’s emotions,” Tony recited your resume and your eyes turned to irritated slits.

“You’ve done your research.”

He smirked smugly and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing FRIDAY couldn’t pull together in a few minutes.”

“I’m surprised with you, Mr. Stark. Allowing The Winter Soldier on your team. After, you know…Mommy and Daddy.” As soon as the words finished leaving your lips you could feel a wave of anger flood over you from Tony. His jaw visibly clenched and it was your turn to smirk.

“How the hell did you—”

“Oh, so you know already? Darn. I was hoping to throw the team into turmoil or whatever.”

“How. Did. You. Know?” His mouth hardly moved as he spoke.

“SHIELD did their research too. Thought it’d be best to keep you in the dark on that one. Let you focus on your superhero act. They weren’t a fan of the whole…hero fueled by vengeance thing you kept going off an doing. They liked to keep their golden boy in check when they could.” You explained, your casual tone angering Tony even further.

He stared at you for a long moment before abruptly turning to face the one-way mirror, speaking to whoever was on the other side.

“Someone else get in here before I bounce her face off the table,” he said.

In a few moments the door opened again and Tony leaned back, arms crossed, against the far corner of the room while Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff entered, followed timidly by Wanda Maximoff. Wanda immediately went to Tony, laying a hand on his arm but looking in your direction. Her free hand moved fluidly through the air, a red mist twisting its way across the room to you.

She was reading your emotions. You could literally feel it. You’d never realized how…intrusive it was. You’d never been on the receiving end before now.

Just as quickly as it had appeared the mist dispersed and Wanda lowered her hand, giving you a sympathetic look before turning her attention to Tony.

“Do not be angry. She is grieving.” The young girl said softly.

You lowered yourself back down into your chair finally. Having tried to read Wanda’s emotions in return, you were met with nothing but calmness. It was serene and infectious. The fight was slowly slipping out of you. Once you were seated again you quickly broke the connection, not wanting to be thrown off your game any further.

Steve sat down in the chair across the table from you, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning in towards you.

“We’re sorry about your dog,” he apologized.

Your head snapped to look away from him. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes at the mention of Zelda. It still felt like there was a piece of you missing. Like there was a gaping hole somewhere inside you where she had resided. As quickly as you could you blinked back your tears and took a deep breath, finally looking back towards The Captain.

“It’s fine. Just let me put a bullet in your boyfriend’s chest and we’ll be even,” you said as smoothly as your voice would allow you to.

Steve was unwavering, simply leaning back and crossing his arms. He didn’t so much as blink at your smart mouth. To be honest, you were almost intimidated. Before your resolve could waver you shifted your focus to the redhead who stood beside Steve, mirroring his expression as best she could. Her lips were pressed tightly together. She was almost as scary as Rogers.

Almost.

“Nat, so good to see you again,” you smiled, sickly sweet.

That caught Tony’s attention. He pulled away from Wanda, stepping towards Natasha. “You know her?”

Natasha gave a single-shouldered shrug. “We’ve crossed paths.”

“Oh come on now, Natty,” you cooed, leaning forwards and pouting your lips. Your breasts, which were already pushed together with your hands cuffed in front of you, peeked over the neck of your t-shirt now. “Don’t be like that. Don’t you remember Paris?”

“I’m getting an…uncomfortable vibe. Anyone else feeling this?” Tony pointed a finger at Wanda. “Abra Kadabra, you picking up on this?”

“It’s nothing,” Natasha said firmly, never looking away from you. “And it’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

“But at some point it should be discussed why you did not reveal to us you knew (y/n)…” Wanda piped up. “Should it not?”

A smug smirk graced your mouth. You were finally regaining control of the room. This was the kind of thing you’d been trained for: control and manipulation. Much like Natasha herself. That’s how you two had met, actually, during Natasha’s earlier days as a S.H.E.I.L.D agent. She’d been assigned to train you were first recruited. Eventually, however, the genetically enhanced student had surpassed the KGB-trained teacher. Not without leaving behind some hard feelings, of course.

“Absolutely. But now while we have her handcuffed to a table is not the time to give her the upper hand,” Natasha snapped at her teammate and your stomach lurched. Perhaps you weren’t as far past her as you might have hoped.

You cleared your throat loudly, tilting up your right wrist as much as you could to give a little wave to your captors. “Hi. Hey. Kidnapping victim here. Wanna tell me what the actual fuck I’m doing here?”

Steve nodded. “Yes. We have a proposition for you.”

You threw your head back and gave a vicious cackle. “Is this the part where you ask me to become an Avenger?”

Steve’s head dropped and he heaved a sigh. “Well…” His eyes turned upwards to meet yours, “yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider supporting me by buying me a [**ko-fi**](https://ko-fi.com/H2H8DZ45). Love ya'll!


	3. Chapter 3

You sat in a chair in Tony’s lab with your arm outstretched, presenting him with your wrist. The offer to become an Avenger wasn’t something you were keen on accepting, however, as it stood, either you joined the team and they destroyed the evidence they had on you, or they handed your file over to the FBI and you rotted in a cell for the rest of your life. Suddenly, The Avengers didn’t seem that bad.

Tony grabbed your arm rougher than necessary and snapped a thick, silver cuff around your wrist. There was a single button on it and he pressed it. An image of the numbers zero through nine were suddenly floating in the air, being projected from the cuff. Tony raised his other hand and pressed it over your eyes.

“No peeking,” he said and you could hear the holographic image beep every time Tony pressed a number. You counted each beep that rang out before they stopped and were replaced with a mechanical clicking as the cuff locked itself onto you.

Six. It was a six-digit code.

Tony pulled his hand away from your eyes and himself away from you, picking up a tablet from the counter beside him and typing away at it.

“Here’s the deal,” he said. “My handy-dandy tablet here controls that pretty little bracelet I just put on you. I decide where you can and cannot go, right down to the square foot. This building you’re in here is where all of my super-freaks live. I’m gonna start you off in one of the nifty little studio apartments we have upstairs—I know, I’m too kind. You behave, I loosen the chain and you get to leave your apartment to get some sunshine on the roof. You continue to behave, I let you make friends in the common room. If, and only if you prove to me that I can trust you, eventually we work our way to taking that thing off of you. What do you think?”

You scoffed at him. “As if that matters.”

“Great point!” Tony clapped his hands together. “Follow me.

Tablet still in hand, he didn’t even look back to see if you had actually listened to him, he simply took off through the door. You scurried to catch up, following him down a hallway to an elevator at the end of it. Inside he pressed the number “4” and the doors slid closed. When the doors slid open on the fourth floor you were immediately met with the last person on Earth that you wanted to see.

You didn’t hesitate for a single moment. You lunged, hands going for his throat and sending him stumbling backwards. James’s metal arm whirred furiously as his hands peeled yours off of his throat—with more ease than you would have liked. You shook free of his flesh hand and reared back, ready to lay your fist into his jaw when suddenly a sharp jolt flew through your body, causing it to go rigid. You were being electrocuted. And the source of it? The bracelet around your wrist.

When your muscles were no longer convulsing from the electric current your legs forgot how to work and you fell to your knees, fists clenched and eyes closed. You turned your head to look back at a smirking Tony stepping off the elevator, tablet still in hand.

“And that is what will happen if you try to leave your…eh…designated areas. Or if you try to take a piece out of one of my guys,” Tony told you, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You turned your head back towards James, a fire burning in your eyes. His own expression was blank—unreadable. Just as you were about to tap into his emotions, he caught you off guard by extending a hand towards you, offering to help you off your knees. Roughly, you shoved his hand to the side and then climbed to your feet on your own.

“Since when is this your M.O., Stark?” You sneered at him. “Taking poor, helpless girls prisoner.” You batted your eyelashes at him exaggeratively and earned yourself a glare from Mr. Stark. He approached you, grabbing you by your upper arm before dragging you along beside him down the hall.

The two of you had hardly made it ten feet away before you heard James call after you.

“Hey!”

“What, Barnes?” You asked over your shoulder, digging your heels into the floor and forcing Tony to stop with you. You turned as much as you could with his bruising grip on your arm.

“I…uh…welcome to the team,” James said without making eye contact with you. One hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

You stared at him for a long moment. “Eat me.”

James didn’t say another word, he simply turned away, back towards the elevator doors which had already closed, and pressed the button on the wall. You turned back around yourself and allowed Tony to drag you down the hall to the third door on the right.

“I don’t have any stuff,” you pointed out after stepping inside to look around. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was bigger than your apartment had been. Instead of a mattress on the floor, there was a four-poster bed, on one side of which was a walk-in closet, and on the other side of which was the bathroom. In the center of the room was a fair sized couch and a television that hung, suspended from the ceiling in front of it. Behind the couch was the kitchen, complete with a table to sit at—something you hadn’t had at your old apartment. You’d always eaten sitting on your mattress with Zelda beside you.

Zelda. Your chest went tight again. You looked down at your hands and blinked back tears. You’d need to clean her blood off once Stark left. You could cry in the shower, away from everyone.

“Natasha’s on her way to your place as we speak,” Tony responded.

You rolled your eyes. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Half an hour later you stood under the warm spray of the shower. You’d never had a bathroom this big before. Not only was there a stand-alone shower with a sliding glass door, but beside that was a bathtub that looked like it was meant for two people, not just one.

“Do they need room to backhand spring into the fucking tub?” you had grumbled to yourself when you saw how much open space there was in the center of the room between the sink and the bathtub.

Now, bitter tears mixed with the water dripping down your face as you watched the water running off your hands turn red, and then pink, and eventually clear. That was it. The last remnants of Zelda were spiraling down the drain and you couldn’t even give her a proper goodbye. You couldn’t even burry her because you were trapped in this damn room. With a yell of frustration you slammed the side of your fist against the wall in front of you. Once, twice, three times, letting out angry, unintelligible noises with each hit.

“You okay in there, killer?”

You hadn’t even heard the bathroom door open, however you didn’t need to open the foggy shower door or peer through the steam in order to know who it was. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Fuck off, Romanoff,” you growled.

“Aw, but you were so excited to talk about old times earlier when you thought it’d piss off my team,” she fake-pouted. She was taunting you.

Turning off the water and opening the shower door, you reached out to grab a towel and wrap it around your body. Without even bothering to wrap one around your dripping hair you stormed across the room to the open door. The air from inside the other room crept over your legs and lifted up goosebumps from your skin.

“Fuck. Off.” You stood tall despite your semi-nudity and stared straight into Natasha’s eyes. She stared back, for just long enough to realize that you’d been crying. Then her eyebrows scrunched together and she pursed her lips.

All of a sudden she turned away, walking into your room. After a second’s hesitation, you followed only to find yourself stumbling to a shocked halt just a few steps in. Sitting on your bed was your black duffel bag—the one you’d been putting money into before James Barnes barged in and ruined your life.

Hesitantly, as if it might disappear if you moved too quickly, you approached the bag and pulled open the zipper. On top was a pile of your clothes, which you quickly pulled out and tossed aside. There, in the bottom of the bag, were stacks of twenty-dollar bills. Not as much as there used to be, but a good amount.

“Why did you—”

“I turned over half to Stark, told him that was all of it. Just because you’re acting like a complete bitch right now doesn’t mean I forgot your history. It doesn’t mean that I forgot that we have history.” Natasha took a step closer to you, grabbing onto one of your hands and lightly tracing her thumb over the palm. “I’m sorry things haven’t been going your way. And I don’t think you’re bad. Don’t get me wrong, try anything funny and I will absolutely kick your ass…”

“As if you could,” you scoffed, but with less malice than you might have before. It was almost playful.

“…but I know you’re not just a killer, and that you were probably desperate not to end up on the streets again. And…I don’t know,” Natasha dropped your hand suddenly, turning away from you. “I guess I just didn’t want you to feel like it was all for nothing. Does that make sense?” She turns back towards you, her eyes wide and slightly glossy, as if she might cry.

You stepped towards her, reaching up a hand to brush over her cheek before bringing it up to brush her hair behind her ear.

“Natasha…” you said, hardly above a whisper. In a flash, your fingers tugged the earpiece from Natasha’s ear and stepped away from her. “You can’t pull that shit on me. You know it. I read emotions, and you’re still as cold as ever.” Your next words you directed towards the earpiece, “Hey Tony, thanks for the cash but I still fucking hate you.”

You underhand tossed the earpiece back towards Natasha who was scowling at you.

“Check the left side pocket, you asshole. You’re welcome,” Natasha said before leaving your room.

Immediately you did as she said, curiosity getting the better of you. You opened the left side pocket of the duffel back and reached in, only to pull out a familiar black collar. A heart-shaped piece of metal dangled from it with the name “ZELDA” etched into it. Your hand clasped tightly around the collar and you willed yourself not to start crying again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider supporting me by buying me a [**ko-fi**](https://ko-fi.com/H2H8DZ45). Love ya'll!


	4. Chapter 4

             The days dragged on slower than you thought was even possible. The fridge was stocked so you didn’t really see anyone apart from when someone came to check and see if you were still alive. That, and the one time you tried to break the code on your electric-bracelet. Apparently it sent an alert to Tony’s phone if more than one wrong attempt at the code was made. The windows opened, which was nice, but you didn’t have a rope, nor enough sheets to fashion into one long enough to reach the ground from the first floor. Not to mention the bracelet would zap you the second you tried to climb through it.

              So you were trapped. Just a sitting duck for two straight weeks. You were ready to go insane the day a knock came on your door. You pulled it open to reveal Tony standing on the other side.

              “Yes, oh great captor of mine?” You sneered.

              “Tone down the love a little, would you? I’ve got a girlfriend,” he responded without a second’s hesitation. You rolled you eyes, crossing your arms over your chest before he continued. “Congrats, kid, you’re on probation. You can now roam free…anywhere on this floor or the roof, that is. But you throw a punch at one of my guys again and you’ll be back to your room. Got it?”

              “You’re too kind. What ever did I do to deserve you?”

              Tony smirked. “Simple, you killed some old rich guys.”

              With that he was gone, leaving you standing in your open doorway and staring at the wall across from you. So, you finally had freedom from your room, which was great and all, but what you really wanted was freedom from the whole damn compound. Still, you weren’t going to fight about it. Not when Tony could so easily take the little privilege he’d allowed you away.

              With a deep breath you placed a foot outside your door, tensing and preparing to be shocked but the pain never coming. Okay, so this hadn’t been a trick.

              You pulled your door closed behind you, not caring about the fact that you were currently dressed in shorts and a t-shirt that was nearly longer than them. You hadn’t had much motivation to wear anything other than pajamas since being locked away. You practically ran to the elevator which had already closed behind Tony and eagerly pressed the button beside it. You felt like you were practically vibrating, already imagining what it would be like to be completely immersed in fresh air. It was different than the breezes that occasionally trickled through the screens of the windows in your room. It was refreshing and two-weeks overdue.

              “Hey, wait up!” You didn’t recognize the voice that called after you, but you recognized the face of the person it belonged to when you looked over your shoulder. You’d seen him on the news and heard about him through S.H.I.E.L.D. Sam Wilson.

              “Can I help you?” you asked.

              Sam, to your surprise, laughed at the attitude in your voice. He came to a stop beside you and stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

              There was something about his laid-back demeanor that was infectious…not to mention you were supposed to be trying to get along with the team, and Sam didn’t seem like a bad place to start. You took his hand firmly and shook it, mustering up as much of a smile as you could.

              “I hear they loosened your chains. You headin’ up to the roof?” Sam asked, to which you nodded. “Cool, mind if I join you? I wanna get to know the girl that’s been the talk of the compound for the past two weeks.”

              As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open and together you and Sam stepped on.

 

              You spent two hours on the roof with Sam, the conversation only halting when he ran downstairs to the communal kitchen to make some sandwiches—two for you and three for yourself. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until then, having not eaten much while trapped in your room. You’d never had many friends. Growing up bouncing around foster homes until you finally ran away to live on the streets wasn’t exactly the right environment for creating bonds. And then you had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and suddenly there was no time for socializing. Talking to Sam was a welcome change—although you would never say it out loud.

              The roof was nice, set up with an array of expensive looking patio furniture. You were sprawled out on a lounge chair with Sam leaning back against the one beside you, laughing at a joke he had made when suddenly the door to the building burst open.

              “Now this is what I like to see!” Tony exclaimed, waltzing through the door with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a carton of orange juice in the other. He was followed by Steve, holding a twelve-pack of beer, Natasha with just a glass of wine in her hand, and Wanda who was carrying glasses for everyone. You sat up straighter, for once letting your emotions show clearly on your face: confusion. Tony noticed it right away. “What? We’re not monsters, Y/N. If you’re going to be part of the team eventually we’re going to treat you like part of the team. That means welcoming you properly.”

              You let out a spiteful cackle. “Oh, you mean two weeks of false imprisonment wasn’t you welcoming me properly?”

              “We’re gonna shove alcohol at you until your too drunk to have that attitude,” Natasha spoke up as everyone set up the array of alcohol on the patio table in front of your lounge chair, and Tony headed over to the firepit a few feet away from that to light it up.

              “Natasha,” you faked shock, placing a hand to your chest. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to take advantage of me.”

              Natasha shot you a flirtatious smile. “Don’t tempt me.”

              You would have imagined the team held a lot more animosity towards you, or at the very least you’d still be feeling it towards them, but there was something about the fresh air and Sam’s company that had cleared your mind.  _These people_ , on the roof with you, offering you booze, weren’t the ones that killed your best friend. They’d done their jobbed and stopped you from killing other people. No sane human being could pretend like what you had been doing was right.

              How many parents had you taken away from children?

              How many husbands had you taken away from their partners?

              A feeling of regret you hadn’t felt since you’d focused yourself on hating the Avengers two weeks ago started to creep through you, but you swallowed it down. You would drink until you didn’t have to think about it anymore. After all, you had just been doing what you had to, right?

              Sure. That’s what you’d continue to go with.

              Tony poured you a generous amount of vodka and some orange juice into a glass and handed it to you, rolling his eyes as Sam asked why he wasn’t being waited on too. Steve opened a beer, tipping the bottle at you before taking a drink and sitting down on the lounger across from you.

              “So, I’m still interested in hearing about this past with Natasha,” Tony didn’t hesitate to dive right in.

              You laughed. “Romanoff, you haven’t told them yet? I’m offended.”

              She sipped her wine, eyeing you over the rim of the glass before saying, “I thought I’d leave that to you.”

              “How thoughtful of you,” you smiled, before turning back to Tony. “It wasn’t actually anything that serious. We got stuck in LA for an extra night after a mission and  _someone_ had a little too much to drink and got handsy.”

              “And  _someone else_  drank just as much as me and got equally handsy,” Natasha cut in.

              Sam had sat up in his seat, now leaning forwards with his elbows against his knees and smirking at you.

              “Come on now, don’t skimp on the details,” he said.

              You reached out and playfully hit him before sipping your drink. You were actually in a good mood. It was amazing. Something you’d never thought you’d feel again.

 

              The carefree happiness coursing through you was dampened when the door to the roof opened again and James stepped through. He avoided everyone’s gaze as all eyes turned to him, and you avoided his when he looked at you. You didn’t have to use your powers to feel how uncomfortable everyone had grown, unsure how you were going to react to seeing him again. Quite honestly, if you were a dog a growl would have escaped your throat just then.

              “Bucky, just in time,” Steve said. He stood from his seat and uncapped a new beer, offering it towards his friend.

              “You know that stuff doesn’t do anything to me,” James responded sourly. “Thanks for the invite, by the way. I had to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. where everyone was.”

              “You didn’t tell him?” Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony.

              Tony shrugged his shoulders, “What? So Y/N would attack him and I’d have to zap her? Didn’t seem smart, honestly.”

              “Aw, Buck-o, did we hurt your feelings?” Sam teased.

              Yes, you almost answered. They had, you’d finally dared to look at him and you could feel it oozing off of him. He legitimately had had his feelings hurt by not being invited to the team’s roof-party. As much of an affront to Zelda’s memory as it was, you almost felt bad for the guy.

              “Fuck off, Wilson,” Bucky said, making his way over to the seat beside Steve.

              “If it makes you feel any better, Bucky, I’ve got some of Thor’s mead down in my room,” Steve said.

              That cracked a small smile on Bucky’s face. “Why’s it down there and not up here, Punk?”

              “I’ll go get it, Jerk.” Steve stood up, disappearing back into the compound.

              “What’s so special about Thor’s mead?” you directed your question at James…or Bucky…or whatever.

              His eyebrows raised when he realized you were talking directly at him and not screaming.

              “Um…it’s really strong. With the serum Steve and me have in us regular alcohol doesn’t do much. Not for long anyway. But Thor’s stuff, from Asgard…it definitely does the trick.”

              You were suddenly hyper aware of how closely everyone was watching the exchange between the two of you, as if they were watching the timer on a bomb count down. You took a large gulp of your drink, draining it before standing up and pouring yourself another. It’d been a while since you’d last had alcohol, and when you stood up you could feel how quickly it was effecting you. The sun had barely begun to set and you were already buzzed. You took another long drink while retaking your seat.

 

              By the time night had come you were blacked out.


	5. Chapter 5

Even before you opened your eyes it felt like the room was spinning. You groaned audibly and went to roll over on your side only to freeze and go stiff. There was someone in your bed. Your eyes flew open and you sat up—immediately regretting it as a wave of nausea rolled over you—suddenly realizing that you weren’t in your bed at all. You racked your brain, trying to remember the previous night, but the last thing you remembered was Steve beating Tony in an arm-wrestling contest while Tony wore one arm of one of his Iron Man suits, and them accidentally shattering the glass of the table beneath their elbows. Then everything went blank.

There was something else about that memory. Something just barely within your reach that you had to grasp for. Something about where you were sitting. You were between someone’s legs, leaning back against their chest while you giggled uncontrollably. Yes, you’d gotten far too close to someone the night before. Tony and Steve weren’t an option because you’d been watching them while you canoodled with someone, so that left two options. As your mind settled on the idea that it had been Sam you finally looked to the side, only to recoil.

James. Fucking. Barnes.

James Fucking Barnes was asleep beside you, the sheet that covered both of you scrunched down around his waist so you could see that his chest was bare. Ever so slowly—partially because you didn’t want to wake him and partially because you were scared of what you’d find—you lifted up the sheet where it laid against his skin and looked underneath.

Yup. He was naked. Absolutely naked. Your heart picked up as panic started to grip your insides. There was no way that this could be real. You hated him. He’d killed your best friend. And yet here you lay, completely nude and laying in his bed. You couldn’t keep calm anymore, with a shout of disgust you jumped from the bed, dragging the sheet along with you in order to hide what little shred of dignity you had left.

James woke up with a start, blinking away the sleep from his eyes and looking at you with shock before immediately using his hands to hide his cock.

“What the hell?” He demanded.

“Me what the hell? You what the hell? What the hell, James?!” you shrieked.

“Why are you naked?!”

“Why are we both naked?!”

“Jesus Christ.” James stood from the bed and moved to his dresser. Although you would never admit it out loud, your eyes lingered on his firm ass, lingering down to his thick thighs and strong calves. Your stomach tightened and you swallowed hard.

“James, did we…screw?” you asked hesitantly.

With his back still to you, James rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a pair of boxers, bending over to pull them on before turning back around to face you.

“First of all…Bucky. Call me Bucky. I told you that like six times last night. Second, I’m never drinking Asgardian mead again. I don’t fuckin’ remember.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?” you asked.

Bucky thought for a moment. “Steve and Tony broke the table on the roof, and I was drinking straight from Steve’s bottle of mead, and you were between my legs and then…oh shit.”

“What?” you were afraid to ask but couldn’t help but to.

“You sat up and turned around and straddled my lap and you kissed me. And then, I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Your stomach dropped through the floor and immediately you turned around, searching for your clothes. They were nowhere in the bedroom portion of the room so you began to look elsewhere, eventually finding your shorts, t-shirt, bra, and panties in a pile in the kitchen. You didn’t hesitate to ask question, simply picked up your clothes and headed towards the door, still wrapped up in Bucky’s sheet.

“Wait, don’t—” you didn’t hear the end of Bucky’s sentence because you were already out in the hallway, closing the door behind you. Quickly as you could you looked around to determine what direction your room was in. Since Bucky’s room was nearly at the end of the hall you turned and headed in the direction of the elevators. Just as you reached your own door you heard the sound of the elevator doors opening and made the mistake of pausing to look towards it.

“Now that’s what I call team bonding!” Tony called from down the hallway.

With your face burning bright read you opened up the door to your room and practically dove inside. When the door was shut behind you, you leaned against it, trying to calm your breath.

You’d slept with him.

You’d drank your weight in vodka and slept with that monster of a human being.

You blinked back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes because of how ferociously the guilt was pricking at your soul. You couldn’t believe this had happened. Less than twenty-four hours ago you loathed everyone in this damn building. All it took was a little (a lot of) alcohol for you to throw away all of your emotions and replace them with the ones everyone wanted you to have. Briefly, you considered the idea that Bucky had planned all of this—that the whole “feeling bad over not being invited to the party” thing was just a giant ruse in order to get you to feel sorry with him.

 

After you showered you changed into a pair of leggings and a tank top with nothing underneath, and then settled down on your bed. Leaning to the side you opened your bedside drawer and pulled out Zelda’s collar, holding it tightly in your hands and closing your eyes.

“What the hell am I gonna do?” you asked, as if Zelda might be able to hear you.

It was different now, though. Zelda was a dog, she never had advice. But, as if she was in tune with your emotions like you were with hers, any time you had ever been upset she would lick your face and cuddle up in your lap, and suddenly the world would seem a little less bad. Now, however, you had no comforts. You had nothing but her memory, and the reality that you had slept with her murderer gnawing at your conscious. Somewhere in your mind you felt like she would be mad at you—that she would hate you for betraying her like this. But then again, like you’d been reminding yourself more and more often recently in order to avoid crying, she was just a dog. She didn’t actually understand any of this.

You were only vaguely aware of the sound of knocking on your bedroom door. You didn’t make a sound in response, simply continued to stare down at the collar in your hands.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice carried through the door.

You said nothing. Maybe if you stayed absolutely quiet he would think you weren’t in there.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. The only other place you’re allowed is the roof.”

Damn.

Chewing on your bottom lip you pulled yourself from bed, setting Zelda’s collar on top of your bedside table, and crossed to the door, hesitantly pulling it open. Bucky stood on the other side, barely able to meet your gaze with no shirt and a pair of sweatpants hanging off of his hips. You did everything you could not to look at his toned, muscular chest but you failed miserably. Briefly you considered if there was maybe a good reason that you’d done what you’d apparently done the night before.

“What do you want?” you tried to sound indifferent to his existence, but your voice wavered slightly.

“To talk…about last night,” he scratched the back of his neck, still unable to look at you. “I just want to make sure you don’t like, think I took advantage of you or anything. I only drank so much because…well…I was trying to get up the courage to apologize. I don’t remember if I ever did. So, if I didn’t, I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips together and stared at him, reading his emotions. He was apparently being genuine. You felt guilt radiating off of him. But then again, maybe it was just guilt over having slept with you in the first place. Unfortunately, your powers couldn’t determine exactly what he was feeling guilt over. You didn’t get a chance to ask him to clarify his emotions because suddenly you were interrupted by Sam dashing down the hall towards you two.

“Hey there, love birds, how’s it going?” He teased.

You shot him a glare while responding, “I feel like I’m never going to be clean again.”

Sam laughed, slapping Bucky on his shoulder in a friendly manner before saying, “You two were trashed last night, it was hilarious. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way?”

“We’re welcome for what?” you asked, skeptically.

“Oh man, you guys really were out of it.” Sam shook his head. “I followed you two when you decided to disappear from the roof together—not anything creepy. Just looking out for the new girl. I don’t think ya’ll were in Bucky’s room for more than five minutes before I came in. Ya’ll were passed out on the bed, naked. Either Bucky boy is a two-pump chump or you passed out before you got to the good stuff. Anyway, I covered you guys up with a sheet, so…you’re welcome.”

“So…we didn’t do anything?” you asked, hope filling you.

“I mean, I didn’t stick around. I got enough of an eyeful. But I guess not?” Sam said.

You could have dropped to your knees and cried to the heavens. You hadn’t screwed Bucky! Your hands—and the rest of your body—were still clean! You could have kissed Sam right there and you very well might have if you hadn’t suddenly felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. It wasn’t your disappointment though. It was Bucky’s. You looked to him, raising an eyebrow. He only met your gaze for a moment before, wordlessly, he stormed off back down the hall to his room.

“There’s the Bucky we all know and hate,” Sam chuckled before turning and walking away from your door, leaving you there alone, wondering what the hell had just happened.


End file.
